LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Shelf ..Ms ^2. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERIOA.- 



LIFE AND FAITH 



SONNETS 



BY 



GEORGE Mcknight 




^. 



NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1878 



Ir 






Copyright 
By henry holt & O)., 



CONTENTS, 



PARTI: LIFE. 
^Prologue to Part I, 
■Gifts, .... 
Dues, . 

The Soul's Measure, . 
Time's Best Promise, 
All Seek the Good, r 
Les Miserables, 
The Inevitable Penance, 
The Ministry of Remorse, 
Means of Rescue, 
A Vision of Forgiveness, I, 

" " " II, . 

Rectitude, 
Clear Assurance, I, 

II, 

III, . 

IV, 

V, . 



3 
II 

12 
13 

15 

16 

17 
18 

19 
20 
21 

22 

23 
24 

25 
26 

27 



CONTENTS. 



Defeat of Nemesis, I, . . . 

II, 
The Prayer of the Righteous, I, 

" " " II, . 

Elihu's Argument, I, . . . 

II, 

III, 
The Retrospect, 
Reaching Forth, .... 

The Estrangement of Happiness, I, 

II, . 
Ill, 
Unhonored Worth, 

" Though naught they may to others be. 
Perpetual Youth, .... 

Soul-Food, . . . . . 

Discernment of the Good and Beautiful, 
" The soul is dyed by the thoughts," 
Kinship, ..... 

Scorn, ...... 

Fortune and Wisdom, 

Fame and Wisdom, . . . . 

Opportunity. . . ■ . 



28 
29 
30 
31 
32 
33 
34 
35 
36 
37 
38 

39 
40 

41 
42 

43 
44 
45 
46 
47 
48 

49 
50 



CONTENTS, 

Forewarned, 

Triumph, 

"An idler in the land," 

Not in Vain, 

Consummation, . 

Soul-Symmetry, 

In Unison, 

Disinthrallment, . 

Live while You Live, . 

Memento Mori, 

All to Hope, 

"Reason thus with life," 

Assured, . 

Fearless, 

Action and Rest, 

Death the Renewer, 

Death and Love, 

The Guile of Nature, 

Euthanasia, 



51 
52 
53 
54 
55 
56 
57 
58 
59 
60 
61 
62 
63 
64 

65 
66 

67 
68 
69 



PART II: FAITH. 



Prologue to Part II, 
Light in Darkness, 



73 
81 



viii CONTENTS. 




FiDEI FUNDAMENTUM, 


82 


" He who formed the eye, shall He noi 


'SEE?" 83 


No Secondary Cause of Love, I, 


84 


" " " H. . 


• 85 


Ubique et Semper, I, 


86 


H, . 


• 87 


Revealed, .... 


88 


No Waste of Life, 


. 89 


The Part and the Whole, 


90 


The Earliest Need, 


91 


Complaints ai^td Answers, I, 


92 


n, 


93 


HL . 


94 


IV, 


95 


The Covenant, 


96 


No Promise Broken, 


97 


The Birth of Sorrow, 


98 


The Work of Evil, 


99 


The Mission of Sorrow, I, 


TOO 


II, . 


lOI 


Fixed Fate, . . . . . 


102 


The Mental Spectrum, 


. 103 


The Permanence of Truth, 


104 



CONTENTS. 

Crumbled Forms, 
Growths from the Soul, . 
The Dimness of History, 
The Test of Truth, 
The Office of Unbelief, 
Recompense of Doubt, I, . 

II, 
Doubt and Hope, 
Till Clearer Light, . 
Relative Truths, . 
Certitude, 
Clear Hours, 
Diffusive Beauty, 
Formative Beauty, 
The Power of the Ideal, 
The Great Hope, 
The Past and the Future, 
Persistence of Hope, 
Into Thy Hands, 
Whence this Light? 
Partial Readings, 
Light Gleams, 
The Divine Immanence, I, 



IX 

105 

106 

107 
108 

109 
no 
III 
112 

113 
114 

115 
116 
117 
118 
119 
120 
121 
122 
123 
124 
125 
126 
127 



X CONTENTS. 

The Divine Immanence, II, . . 128 
" The glory of the Lord shall endure for- 
ever," ..... 129 
The Receding Perfect, . . . 130 
Compensation, .... 131 
"Perfect love CASTETH OUT FEAR," . 132 
The Right Eternal, . . . 133 
The Criterion of Revelation, I, . . 134 

II, . 135 

" " " " III, . . 136 



PROLOGUE TO PART I. 



Icologue to lart $. 

QOME record I would leave of trustful hours, 
^ When wider, livelier sympathy endued 
The mind with freer scope for all its powers, 

And made both felt and clearly understood 

The casual evil and essential good 
Of human motives; though full many a deed 

Of sin seemed to require such plenitude 
Of pity, reason would to love concede. 
Divine compassion must respond to such great need. 



Of holy hours, when Duty to incline 
The will to yield a full obedience, 

Spake with a tone of majesty divine; 
And, pointing to no other recompense, 



PROLOGUE TO PART I. 

Gave by approving look immediate sense 
Of great peculiar favor God bestows 

Upon the just; though lawful consequence 
For both the evil and the good dispose 
Events, now making glad, now darkening Hfe with 
woes. 

Triumphant hours, when though the changeful look 
Of Fortune darkly frowned, it terrified 

Not even the delicate delights that brook 
No hot pursuit, but only will abide 
In souls where love and knowledge are allied 

And, blended, issue forth through gazing eyes ; 
Making a vision so serene and wide. 

The narrowest horizon will comprise 

The beauty of all lands, the glory of all skies. 



And of more solemn hours, when Birth and Death 
As Life's successive ministers were viewed \ — 

One to inspire, one to withdraw the breath. 
As Destiny ordains; and though they stood 
4 



PROLOGUE TO PART I. 

In mutual antithetic attitude 
Among the powers obeying hfe's control, 

A common end was seen to be pursued 
By both, and, to the calmly reasoning soul, 
Death evermore appeared the nearer to the goal. 



Would that in those serener seasons, when 

The sun of truth seemed with unclouded light 
To beam upon me, farther reaching ken 

Had to the eye belonged, or finer sight; 

Or I had stood upon some lofty height 
Of learning, where great minds abide alone ; 

That looking near or far, I haply might 
Have then discovered, and to others shown, 
Some precious verities still waiting to be known. 



But though the truths I have recorded here 
May be familiar as the flowers that grow 

Along the wayside, yet they did appear 
Into my soul immediately to flow 
5 



PROLOGUE TO FAR7' J. 

From their first source ; for I did surely know 
Through my own new and clear experience 

Their truthfiilness, did feel the warming glow 
Imparted to them in that fountain whence 
Truths issue and disperse in radiant effluence. 



And does not Nature own the wayside flowers ? 

Perchance her rarest beauty is revealed 
In dainty petals distant dewy bowers 

Of unfrequented forests have concealed 

From common vision, or the cultured field 
Brought forth. Yet could we but discern the true 

And perfect meaning Nature fain would yield 
Unto our minds in flowers we daily view, 
Their beauty might appear as precious and as new. 



And though care-burdened men, day after day. 
Go and return in haste, and give no heed 

To blossoms seen so often by the way ; 
Yet haply if a resting traveler, freed 
6 



PROLOGUE TO PART I. 

A season from demands of want and need, 
Should note a lowly modest comeliness 

In blooming wayside herbage, then, indeed, 
Pure, peaceful thoughts his spirit might possess, 
And even some after hours, remembered peace might 
bless. 

7 



PART I. 

LIFE, 



(ffiifts. 

" Who juaketh thee to differ? " 

"pROTHER, my arm is weaker far than thine; 
And thou, my brother, in each common view 
Of Nature canst discern some beauteous hue 

Too deUcate to thrill such brain as mine. 

And yet, O brothers both, by many a sign 
God shows for me as warm love as for you : 
With equal care His light and rain and dew 

Cherish the sturdy tree and clinging vine. 

Be thou not proud of thy more massive brawn ! 
Nor thou, because within thy brain each thread. 
Through which the thought pulsations pass and 
spread 

From cell to cell, has been more tensely drawn ! 
God's forces made you what you are, why then 
Should you expect the reverence of men ? 
II 



Bues. 

*' Ye are noi yottr ozvn.'^'' 

\ GAINST a soul the accusing angel brought 
^ *■ Complaint, and said, "The earth has not con- 
cealed 
The sweat of one who tilled unpaid thy field — 
'T is risen to Heaven ! " 

" He served but as he ought," 
The soul replied. "A suffering wretch besought 
Help of the knowledge God to me revealed, 
And in one hour all his disease was healed ; 
For this a hundred weeks he duly wrought." 
Then from the Throne the words of judgment came : 
"The powers wherewith my servants are endowed 
Are for my service ; if, possession-proud. 
One for his own behoof or glory claim 

Their use and increase, he will rob his Lord — 
Not his the faithful servant's great reward." 

12 



"PvOST thou of all attainments value those 

Most that enlarge thy soul ? and wouldst be 
shown 
A sign, whereby it clearly may be known 

How much, from year to year, thy spirit grows ? 

By as much more as others' joys and woes, 

Through wider sympathy, are made thine own, 
By so much in soul stature hast thou grown. 

The bounds of personality that close 

Around uncultured spirits narrowly 

Have been so far extended, and contain 

So much the more of conscious life's domain; 

And so much has thy knowledge grown to be 
Like that of clearest souls, whose bounding walls 
Will cast no shadow where the soul-light falls. 
13 



Cime'is ii3est promise. 

/^ HAPPY thou, whose daily work supplies 
To others joys that else would never De ! 
For thine shall be the happiness and glee 

Of many hearts, and thine the goodliest prize 

The future showeth to fore-looking eyes : 
For safely are reserved in store for thee 
Occasions for yet nobler charity, — 

It may be for sublime self-sacrifice. 

The day may come when much of that delight 
Shall in unmingled purity be thine, 
Which fills the souls of messengers divine ; 

Who, with invisible and silent flight, 

O'er the abodes of mortals have bestrown 
Dear blessings, and forever are unknown. 
H 



m\ Bttk tf)t (moot). 

^^ A7id 07ie far off, divine event, 
To which the whole creatioji tnoves. " 

"PVESPISE thou not thy neighbor, though the goal 
Of his endeavors far remote has stood 
From that which thine have worthily pursued. 

The good he gains may be a scanty dole; 

Yet 't would dishonor Him whose high control 
Directs the world, to think that aught but good 
Has been from His omnipotence endued 

With power of drawing any human soul. 

Though oft within a heart thou shalt inquire. 
Only sad heedlessness of right to find, — 
Negations dark that shock the searching mind, — 

Yet whatsoe'er incitement prompts desire 
Is Nature's effort toward the Good to lead, 
But lacking oft just guidance for the deed. 
15 



T F you have pity, O give not the whole 

To those whose hopes are dead, though in their 
dirge 
The moans of present suffering sadly merge : 
They too need pity w^ho, as seasons roll, 
Shall live beneath their base desires' control ; 
Whom guilty hopes and secret fears shall urge 
To ceaseless, toilsome efforts, with the scourge 
Of discontentment, while the weary soul 
No satisfying peace and rest shall find. 

In devious ways they know not, some proceed; 
And see not far nor clearly whither lead 
The branching paths they choose : and some, not 
blind. 
But driven forward by resistless power, 
Approach with conscious steps the torturing hour. 
i6 



CJe inebitafile penance. 

\ GAINST thy penance thou wilt plead in vain 
That laws their full control o'er wills exert : 
The scourging of Remorse 't will not avert ! 
To this sad knowledge thou shalt soon attain, — 
The spirit's sufferings, like the body's pain. 
Cannot be measured by the ill-desert 
The test of reason certifies. The hurt 
Thy soul will feel, if some base impulse gain 
Dominion o'er thy wavering will, and blot 

With lasting stains, a page of Memory's book, 
Whereon thy backward glance perforce must look, 
Will be as keen, while reason doubteth not 
That, in the struggle of each rueful hour, 
Thy low incentives had resistless power. 
17 



€Je JHmiistri) of ivemorse. 

"P\OES conscience with most bitter chiding speak? 
The unremitting anguish thou must bear ! 
No work of merit, reasoning thought nor prayer 

Can cleanse thy life of stains that foully reek. 

Is there no remedy ? One only seek, — 
Let just and rigorous Remorse not dare 
Thy self-abasing penance yet to spare. 

Until endurance, lasting, willing, meek, 

Imbue thy life with sweet humility. 
O penitent, unwise were thy resort 
To dull, benumbed forgetfulness, to thwart 

The painful salutary ministry 

Of one, divinely sent, who hath the power 
To add so dear a grace to thy soul's dower. 
18 



iHeanis of i^egcue. 

T AWS uncreated and omnipotent 

Have shaped thy being, though to sin 't was 
made 
So prone. A hard lot was upon thee laid : 

But think not 't was for thee malignly meant ! 

And though stem Chastisement will not relent 
When aims of thine another's right invade, 
Yet know, the Righteousness supreme, to aid 

Thy woful weakness, hath His angel sent. 

And if thou art forgiven by God or men. 
Know that a wilHngness to suffer pain 
And loss, for others' happiness and gain. 

Touches thy soul. O, if thou feel it then, 
From sinful aims, that have thy will enslaved, 
Thou mayst by that love-kindling sense be saved. 
19 



^ Vision of jForgibenes0. 
I. 

T N a sweet dream I viewed, widi vision clear, 
A region where departed souls abode : 
Bright rivers through the blooming valleys flowed, 

And fragrant breezes murmuring soothed the ear ; 

But all the souls with sin were stained and sere. 
I marveled and bespake an angel there : 
" Should souls like these abide in this sweet air ? 

By these pure streams ? " The angel answered : 
" Here 

The air is God's own breath of pitying love. 
Forgiveness is diffused unseen therein. 
And gives its balmy sweetness, until sin 

Attracting from below, it from above 

Descends as rain and dew; whence are supplied 
These streams, wherein stained souls are purified." 
20 



a Vimn of J^orgibeiuiss. 
II. 

""QUT must not souls like these, so seared and 
scarred, 

Insensible to love's warm breath remain ? 

And though forgiveness wash away each stain, 
Is not their comeliness forever marred ? '' 
I asked. The angel answered : " Naught so hard 

The love of God is shed thereon in vain ! 

These souls, though calloused deep by sin and pain, 
In this sweet air, made warm by His regard, 
At length will feel a softening influence, 

Melting the indurations sin has made. 

Then knowledge of the good must needs pervade 
Each soul, and rouse such holy penitence. 

The pardon freely poured in these pure streams 

Will cleanse its stains, and heal its scars and 
seams. " 

21 



IT THEN hard and painful hindrance has withstood 
Thy course, pursuing Duty's paths that He 

Distinctly traceable to every eye ; 
When tempting thee in some sore troubled mood 
Of spirit, whispered words have told of good, 

That far outweighed all ills thou couldst descry 

Borne in the consequence, to justify 
One shght departure from thy rectitude ; 
If still thy moral precepts held control, 

And from the right thou didst not turn aside, 

Thy human soul has proved itself allied 
Most closely to the great majestic Soul 

Of Nature, who will not, for any cause, 

Depart the least from her eternal laws. 

22 



dl'lear Assurance. 

'■^ If thott workesi at thai which is before thee, following right 
reason, seriously, vigorously, calmly, 7vithoict allowing any- 
ihiftg to distract thee, " 

I. 

'T^HERE is too much on earth to mourn and rue, 
Too much of body pain in every land, 

And agony of soul, when thou hast scanned 
Our human life, to take a mirthful view 1 
O, soberly and vigorously pursue 

The task required by duty at thy hand : 

Ne'er let a vagrant impulse make demand 
Upon endeavors to thy Hfe-work due. 
And, trusting God's great purpose doth inclose 

The purposes wherewith His creatures act 

Accept with equal tolerance each fact, 
Whether it aid thy efforts or oppose ; 

As unperturbed, if they in failure end. 

As if success their final zeal attend. 
23 



onear Esisurance, 

^^ But keeping thy divine part pure, as if thou shouldst be 
bojind to give it back immediately.'''' 

II. 

73 E mindful always that thou art a child 

^^ Of Nature's hope. The God-like soul, on earth 

Became once more incarnate at thy birth. 
Watch well ! keep thy divine part undefiled, 
Unvexed by envy, calmly reconciled 

To whatsoe'er for thee the years bring forth — 

Disease, toil, penury, unhonored worth. 
Keep thy heart's feelings sweet and kind and mild, 
Though haughty glances of the unworthy proud 

Cast on thy merit unprovoked disdain ; 

And let no selfish purpose with its train 
Of troubling cares, even for a day, becloud 

The clearness of thy spirit, making dull 

Thy vision of the good and beautiful. 
24 



(Eleac Assurance. 

" If thou holdest to this, expecting nothing and fearing 

nothing, " 

III. 

A TOT as it looks, will be thy coming state. 

■^ ^ It falsely looms to both thy hopes and fears. 
Unwise is he, with prying eye, who peers 

'Neath the unturned pages of the book of fate. 

Yet whether good or evil hours await 
Thy coming in the far successive years, 
Thou mayst foreknow by that which now ap- 
pears — 

It well may daunt thee, or with joy elate. 

For in thy heart's affections thou canst see 
What thou becomest as the days go by : 
Think not by skilled device to modify 

The strict fulfillment of the high decree. 

That more and more like the sublime or low 
Ideals thou dost cherish, thou shalt grow. 
25 



(Elear .^ggurance. 

" But satisfied with thy present activity according to 

nature, " 

IV. 

OAY not all blessings of thy husbandry 

^^ Are insecure until the groaning wain 

Bears to thy barn the shocks of golden grain ! 

One harvest was already ripe for thee 

While yet unseeded lay thy fallow lea : — 
A harvest that without the summer rain 
May wave abundantly upon the plain, 

For souls to reap with glad festivity. 

O tiller, though thy fields yield no increase, 
Because the fleeting clouds their rain refuse, 
Its best reward thy labor need not lose ; 

For thine may be the sweet contentful peace 
The soul may draw from willing, worthy doing, 
While yet the still eluding end pursuing. 
26 



([that Assurance. 

" And with heroic truth in every word and sound zuhich 

thoji u t teres t, thou shalt live happy." 

Thoughts of M. Aurelius Antoninus. 

V. 
T)UT little harm thy error works to thee, 

Though it continue long, unless, indeed, 

Through self-deception to it thou accede. 
Of that beware ! Thy lasting hurt 't will be ! 
For if in willfulness thou yield the key 

That opes the soul for Truth to enter in, 

Unto her enemy, how can she win 
Thenceforth an entrance ? O, watch jealously, 
If veiled desire persuasively entreat 

Thy reason for the form of an assent, 

To give some fair or subtile argument 
Admittance into Truth's peculiar seat ! 

Lest treason to the truth, within thy soul, 

Deliver it to falsehood's hard control. 
27 



MtUat of iHemesis. 
I. 

\ MORTAL, who had prospered well and long, 
At length incurred the enmity of those 

Immortal powers whose might none can oppose ; 
And Nemesis came down to quell the wrong 
Of human joy from grief divorced. But strong 

And brave before his unresisted foes 

That mortal stood, while from his heart arose 
Defiant accents of triumphant song : — 
" I charge you, O ye ministers of Fate, 

That all of your appointed task ye do ! 

Behold me your co-worker ; for with you 
I serve Eternal Destiny and wait 

The sure unfolding of the great design 

Wherein hath been ordained your work and mine." 
28 



defeat of iilemegiis. 
11. 

"PVEFEATED, Nemesis sped to the skies, 

And in the assembly of the gods complained : — 
" Beneath my hand a human heart disdained 

To plead for pity with entreating cries — 

Upon Fate's justice calmly it relies. 

Have mortals our tranquillity attained ?" 

Then Jove himself to that strange question deigned 

An answer. Thus his final word replies : 

" If mortals in their hearts subordinate 
Desire to duty, and from selfish prayer 
That would pervert determined ends, forbear, 

It was of old decreed by highest Fate, 

That our exemption from all troubling cares 
And vain solicitude, shall even be theirs ! " 
29 



^fje ^Pragei: of tt)e Uiqf)teom. 

I. 

TT THEN thy best efforts fail, when day by day 

Thy heart grows sick of hope deferred, and 
still 

New obstacles arise, and omens ill 
Threaten thy future, art thou moved to pray ? 
'T is well the good incentive to obey. 

Pray for a confirmation of thy will 

In fealty to duty — to fulfill 
All her behests till she commands to stay 
The strife, — from unavailing toil to rest. 

But with all precious benefits of prayer — 

Peace, strengthened purpose, fortitude to bear 
Life's evils, thou shalt be most richly blest 

If, all thy heart's desires comprised in one, 

Thou art content to pray — "Thy will be done." 
30 



Cf)e llrager of tje l^igtteous. 
II. 

"PVOST thou desire the Father of us all 

To watch with kindlier providence o'er thee 

Than others ? and with importunity 
Of strong desires, dost thou upon Him call. 
That special influence from heaven may fall 

To bring some lingering joy more speedily? 

Or heal thee of thy grievous malady 
When thoughts of errly death thy breast appall ? 
Not mine a wish to lessen aught thy trust 

In power divine. Yet, haply, better aid 

Had been received, if thus thy heart had prayed 
O Father, thou to all art good and just ; 

To help my hope to bloom, myself to live, 

I ask no more than thou to all dost give. 
31 



i!?lii)u's Argument, 

" If thou art righteous, ivhat givcst thou to Hiju? " 
I. 

TJEAR me, O Job, and heed my words. Al- 

^ -*■ though 

Upon the name of the Most High thou call, 
And render truth and righteousness to all, — 

Yea, on the worthy poor thy wealth bestow, — 

The wind from out the wilderness will blow 

As strongly, though it strike thy dwelling's wall \ 
The fire of heaven as fatally will fall, 

Although the flocks be thine that graze below. 

For thinkest thou thy goodness will augment 
His changeless love ? Or, emulous of thine, 
More active grow benevolence divine ? 

His goodness never sleeps ! His powers are sent 
To do their needful tasks, and in each work 
Of seeming waste, conserving efforts lurk. 
32 



miWs Argument. 

"// thou hast sinned, what dost thou against Him? " 
II. 

TF thou shouldst scorn Jehovah's high behest; 

-'■ Shouldst hear unmoved the orphan's cry of pain 

And all the toil- won harvest shouldst retain, 
Though famine sore upon thy plowmen pressed ; 
The clouds of God above thy fields would rest, 

And shed the early and the latter rain ; 

Nor thorns nor weeds would lessen aught the gain 
Of barley or of wheat thou gatherest. 
Would thy weak wickedness repel the love 

Of the Almighty, when with bounteous hand 

He sows the seed of plenty on thy land ? 
Behold the skies, how far they stretch above ! 

So high is He, howe'er thy sins increase. 

Resentment will not mar His holy peace. 
33 



©HJu's Argument 

'* For a man like thyself is thy wrong, and for a son of man 
thy righteousness.''^ 

III. 

73 UT if to all thou render righteously. 

And for all kindly deeds thy loins thou gird, 
On men a benefit will be conferred, 

That haply yet may reach far years to be. 

And thou shalt treasure in thy memory 

Full many a thankful look and grateful word, — 
Perhaps of some whose hope fled ere they heard 

Thy footfalls, bringing rescue sure with thee. 

The blessings which the humble poor will breathe 
Upon thee, through each pathway thou shalt trace, 
Will follow thee to thy last resting place. 

There, while thou sleepest peacefully beneath, 
Like a low cloud, that outbreathed gratitude 
On thy remembered grave will seem to brood. 
34 



Ct)e iRetrospm. 

** Consciousness co7nes after bliss.^^ 

/^UR lives are often happier than we know. 
The waters of each stream of Ufe discrete, 
Through all their depth and width with joy are 
sweet, 

Whether they roughly rush or smoothly flow. 

Pleasures are ripples bright that seaward go ; 
But if the current adverse influence meet, 
The waves upheaved and moved in forced retreat 

Against the stream, are surges of hfe's woe. 

And consciousness doth on the surface seem 
To feel both waves and ripples, but it sinks 
Seldom into the depths, nor often drinks 

Of the profounder sweetness of the stream : — 
But o'er the past if pensive Memory sweep, 
She sees how bright the current and how deep. 
35 



'T^HOUGH fondly we review both hopes and fears, 
The joys and even the griefs that once we 
knew, 

We never wish again to Hve them through. 
'T is not because in that dead past appears 
Too much of irksome toil, too many tears ; 

Nor yet because of doubt if Memory's view 

Of the dehghts they held be just and true, 
That back to life we would not call those years. 
We feel that should our vanished joys revive, 

They would not satisfy to-day's desire. 

Thought dwells on them as earnest of the higher 
And more complete delights for which we strive — 

Spurred ever onward by the hope of bliss, 

More satisfying than has been, or is. 
36 



Ci)e iSstrangement of J^appiness. 
I. 

npO neither past nor future giving heed, 

At first the soul enjoyed the present good ; 
And Happiness bestowed beatitude 
That well sufficed for all the present need. 
But soon as Hope came, promising to lead 
To bliss that in the distance dimly viewed, 
With perfect sweetness seemed to be imbued, 
And from the unsatisfying wholly freed. 
The soul grew eager for the yet ungained ; 
And, pressing forward with continual haste. 
Would scarcely linger long enough to taste 
The offered joys that present hours contained. 
Thus Happiness was first estranged, aggrieved 
Because her favors were so ill received. 
37 



Ci)e iSstrangement of Jgappmess. 
II. 

npHE soul, Hope-led, was prompted to pursue 
Expected joys by Memory, who placed 

In sight her tablets, whereupon were traced 
Pictures that seemed of future bliss a view, 
Though all their soft, harmonious tints were due 

To the refracted radiance from the past. 

But when the longed-for joys were reached at last, 
Harsh Memory, with rude words and untrue, 
Chided the present Happiness, complaining 

That all the former sweetness had been changed. 

Thus Happiness was finally estranged 
From the pursuing soul, — thenceforth remaining 

Most disappointing and averse forever, 

To those who seek most eagerly her favor. 
38 



Ci^e iSstrangement of Jgappiness. 
III. 

QTILL Happiness remembers tenderly 

^^ Her old love for the soul, before the day 

When Hope's eye wounded her with scornful ray, 
Ere she had borne the blame of memory. 
And sometimes, when w^ith such authority 

Duty commands, the wdiole will doth obey ; 

Or when the visionary thoughts survey 
Some lofty phase of Nature's harmony ; 
And Hope in awe and silent reverence lets 

Pursuit abate, while Memory holds in view 

Only her records of the always true. 
All her estrangement Happiness forgets, 

And lavishes upon the soul once more 

Her favor, still more precious than before. 
39 



mnijonocet( 5i2ilor:ti). 

'■'■All that Nature made thy o%vn 
Will like thy shadow follow thee.'''' 

A RT slighted and neglected ? Dost consume, 

Unloved, the number of thy earthly days ? 

Who most deserves the tribute pity pays ? 

If beauteous, amiable Hght illume 

Thy inner soul, how sad the torpid gloom 
Of any heart, that 'neath the warming rays 
Outstreaming from thy spirit, yet delays 

To beautify itself with love's sweet bloom ! 

Or other minds perhaps do not admire 
Thy natural gifts — do not to thee assign 
The rank among thy peers that should be thine ;- 

For shame ! Insult not Nature ! Why require 
Of others confirmation and assent, 
To make thee with her chosen gifts content ? 
40 



** Cf)ciugi) iaaugt)t Cf)ep ma:D to (©tijers be/* 

r F in these thoughts of mine that now assuage 
The tedium of the toilsome life I live, 

The few who chance to notice should perceive 
Nothing their lasting interest to engage, 
And quickly cease to turn the farther page, 

It were a shameful thing if I should grieve. 

For if kind Destiny has chosen to give 
To other minds, in many a clime and age. 
Days brighter than my hours, should I repine ? 

And what if by an overhasty glance 

Some import be not heeded, or, perchance, 
Too dim a light upon the pages shine ? 

Would I be wronged, even though the wealth I own 

And not the less enjoy, were all unknown ? 
41 



?0erpetual Wlouti). 

'■^ And ever beautiful and young re7nains 
Whom the divine afubrosia sjcstains.'''' 

npHE days of youth ! The days of glad life-gain ! 

How bright in retrospection they appear ! 

Yet standing in my manhood's stature here, 
I ask not Time his fleet hours to refrain. 
The joyance of those days may yet remain. 

Fly on swift seasons ! Not with grief or fear 

I see your speed increase from year to year ; — 
The soul may still its buoyant youth retain ! 
May, if supplied with its celestial food, 

Forever keep so young it will not cease 

To grow in strength, in stature to increase 
Through all its days, whate'er their multitude. 

And lo, ambrosia plentifully grows 

On many a field through which thought, culling, 
goes. 

42 



" Whence all our spiritual food is brought.'" 

NOT every truth can nourish. It behooves 
A soul to choose its food with care aright, 
If it would grow in the pure spirit's might. 

Vainly, with science for its guide, it roves 

In search of truth, and clearly parts and proves. 
Unless the verities its guiding light 
Discovers and illumines to its sight, 

Add to the objects it admires and loves. 

For only when the soul in love extends 
Its sympathy to other life, — acquires 
Similitude to that which it admires, 

And thus itself with other being blends, 

It finds its proper, growth-promoting food — 
Experience of the beautiful and good. 
43 



Bmttnmtnt of tfte (ffi^ootj anti lieautifuK 

" And you must love before to you 
There iv ill seem worthiness of lovey 

'T^HAT all the seasons may bring forth for thee 

Soul-food in thought's wide fields, however wise 
And diligent thy tilth, 't will not suffice 

Unless from selfish care thy mind is free. 

The light that to those tender plants shall be 
Most genial is the light of searching eyes 
Long gazing ; and the loving heart supplies 

The warmth that makes them bloom most fragrantly. 

If thou art heedful thus thy land to till, 
Within thy mind's domain there is no field. 
So cold and barren, but has power to yield 

Ambrosia, and with joy thy soul to fill. 

And others to thy garnered store will haste, 
To share with thee the sweets that else would waste. 
44 



'' Cte Soul IS Bgeti tg tfje €f)ougf)ti3/' 

'T^HE objects whereupon the affections rest 

Tinge them, and with their good and evil hues 

The source of love within the soul infuse ; 
So they who love not many, love not best. 
His love thou wilt receive with languid zest. 

Who loveth only thee. Thou canst not choose 

But feel its vapid sameness : — soon 't will lose 
Its power to still the longings in thy breast. 
But his, who loveth all things fair and good, 

Comes to thee filled with fragrance taken up 

From every overflowing flower cup 
That tints the light of garden, field or wood. 

Wherein his steps in bhssful moods have wended, 

When the plant-souls with his in love were blended. 
45 



" So light yet sure the bond that binds the world.'''' 

T FOUND beside a meadow brooklet bright, 

Spring flowers, whose tranquil beauty seemed to 
give 
Glad answers as to whence and why we live. 
With pleased delay I lingered while I might, 
Because I thought when they were out of sight, 
No more of joy from them I should receive. 
But now I know absence cannot bereave 
Their loveliness of power to give delight. 
For still my soul with theirs sweet converse holds, 
Through sense more intimate and blest than see- 
ing;— 
A bond of kindred, that includes all being, 
Our lives in conscious union now infolds. 
And O, to me it is enough of bliss 
To know I am, and that such beauty is. 
46 



Scorn. 

'* Which wisdom holds unlawful ever ." 
TF on a child of Nature thou bestow 

A scornful thought, a grievous punishment 
Is thine; for now no longer evident 
Are loving looks Nature was wont to show. 
Yet alters not her favor toward thee so ; — 
Not really does she thy scorn resent ; 
Her heart is too full of divine content 
To feel the troubling passions mortals know. 
'T is thou, by harboring unjust disdain 

Within thy selfish bosom, who hast marred 
The beaming tenderness of her regard. 
Thy sympathy with her is less, in vain 

Is now each kindly look of hers, each smile 
Of favor thou didst oft enjoy erewhile. 
47 



jFcctune anti OTiistiom. 

rjECAUSE with such capricious preference 
Fortune on men gifts of the gods bestows, 
Jove took from her the best of all, and chose 

Wisdom, divine contetitinejit to dispense. 

And some have thought that Fortune still resents 
The loss of her prerogative, and shows 
Haughty aversion and disdain for those 

Whose prayers to her. Wisdom's best gift prevents. 

But Fortune in her secret heart admires 

Her rival's favorites, and, would they choose 
To seek her favor, she might not refuse 

Some glittering bauble to their souls' desires. 

And 't is not strange, when they as worthless deem 
Her kindness, if unloved of her they seem. 
48 



dFame anti ^iSEistiom. 

'T^HEY only with whom Wisdom doth abide, 

With Honor's wreaths are worthy to be 
crowned, 

By Fame proclaimed to reverent throngs around. 
But often, far away from Wisdom's side, 
Fame flies, with Self-assertion for her guide, 

Whose trumpet through the land is heard to sound; 

And praises of the unworthily renowned 
Are shouted till far echoes have replied. 
But Wisdom knoweth well to choose her own ; 

Who, if the favorites of her secret choice 

For that grieve not, but silently rejoice 
That no loud cry of Fame shall make them known 

Even as the elect of Wisdom, lest some word 

Of hers should not so clearly then be heard. 
49 



(!^pportunitp» 

T T AS thy pursuit of knowledge been confined 
^ ^ Within a narrow range by penury, 

And by the hands' hard toil required of thee ? 
O, sorely tried ! But if God had designed 
A strong, divinely gifted human mind 

Should in the world appear, and grow to be 

A grand exemplar of humanity, 
Perhaps his wisdom, provident and kind, 
Seeking a time and place upon the earth, 

Wherein such noble life might grow and bear 

Its perfect fruitage, beautiful and rare. 
Would choose and foreordain, tried soul, a birth 

Like that assigned to thee ! O, squander not, 

The opportunity given in thy lot. 
50 



T F finer powers within thy brain inhere, 

■'■ Part of mankind's best heritage is placed 
In thy safe keeping. Sad it were to waste 

In hard work of the hands a gift so dear. 

But shouldst thou ever from a loftier sphere 
Review thy life — its history retraced 
Through soul-impressions deep and uneffaced - 

Within a world where men from year to year 

Wrought painfully in body weariness ; 

And, while thou sharedst in the pleasant use 
Of what their labor struggled to produce, 

Thy own strong arm ne'er felt the irksome stress 
Of that hard toil, — forsooth I fear a trace 
Of shame will overspread thy angel face. 
51 



Criutnpf)» 

'T^HOUGH hard surroundings, like unsparing foes, 
Against thee have prevailed, a victory 

May yet be thine, and noble Hfe may be 
The trophy which thy triumph will disclose. 
The world's great prizes thou must yield to those 

Of better fortune ! Yield them wilHngly : 

By so much more thy virtue shall be free 
From trammels selfish cares on it impose. 
Famed, far-off landscapes thou shalt never view ! 

Submit : the bliss denied thee do not crave ; 

And thy attentive soul a sight may have 
Of the omnipresent Beautiful and True, 

So clear, 't will bring thee nearer to thy God, 

Than if thou soughtst His wonders far abroad. 
52 



'THHE Highest One, I trust, will not despise 
Thy life's oblation, though it be but hours 
Of gratitude and wonder; for in bowers 
Of wildest woodland that remotely lies. 
Known only to the bee that hath not eyes 
For finer lines and hues. He bids his powers 
Cherish most delicately tinted flowers ; 
Assuring thus our hearts that He doth prize 
For its own sake the beauty, pure and lowly, 
Of fruitless blossoms. Can He value less 
The dearer, unobtrusive comeliness 
Of a meek human soul, devout and holy ; 
Even if, in humbleness of life unknown, 
Conspicuous virtues it has never shown ? 
53 



Not in Vain. 

\ LTHOUGH with valiant arm thou hast not slain 
One of the evils that our world infest ; 

Nor with a clear, full utterance expressed 
One thought that yields the mind a precious gain ; 
Yet if thou hast, to soothe another's pain, 

Toiled with a willing heart, or on thy breast 

Hast lulled a little weary child to rest, 
Rejoice and hope ! Thou hast not hved in vain. 
Thy life, one of the drooping boughs that grow 

Upon the tree of Destiny, has been ; 

But even the fairest blossoms, widely seen, 
Which the far upward reaching branches show, 

With no diviner beauty have illumed 

The world, than these wherein thy life has bloomed. 
54 



(ttonsuinmatton. 

" The grand results of Time." 

''X^ WAS needful that with life of low degree 

But slowly rising, long the earth should teem 
Ere man was born ; and still the guiding scheme 

Seemed not to rest in full maturity. 

For Nature since has so assiduously 

Cherished his growth in spirit, it would seem 
That lofty human souls, in her esteem. 

Are the best trophies of her husbandry. 

And now, as if she neared her final aim, 
She sheds upon them with conspicuous care 
Each fruitful influence, that they may bear 

Great and pure thoughts and deeds of noble fame ; 
As if her crowning joy were to transmute 
The sum of Time's results into soul-fruit. 
55 



5ouUS|)mmetrp. 

AT OT to win great successes in the fray 

Of right with wrong, nor to create some 
mould 
Of beauty distant ages shall behold, 
The purpose of thy life should choose its way : — 
The evidence but not the substance they — 
The blossoms that in due time will unfold : 
But if thy rude haste has the bud unrolled, 
Their beauty withers in a summer's day. 
Then let the soul in its integrity 

Be nourished well ; and if it come to bear 
Such blooming splendor, far-renowned and rare. 
That distant eyes flock thitherward to see; 
Or only leaves, its symmetry shall tell 
Of healthful growth : — 't will please the Master 
well. 

56 



II /TAY nevermore a selfish wish of mine 

Grow to a deed, unless a greater care 
For others' welfare in the incitement share. 

O Nature, let my purposes combine. 

Henceforth, in conscious unison with thine, — 
To spread abroad God's gladness, and declare 
In living form what is forever fair. 

Meekly to labor in thy great design, 

O, let my little life be given whole ! 
If so, by action or by suffering, 
Joy to my fellow creatures I may bring ; 

Or, in the lowly likeness of my soul. 
To beautiful creation's countless store 
One form of beauty may be added more. 
57 



Hisintfiranment. 

T^OST strive against thy selfishness in vain? 

Though grieved and shamed that it so oft 
should fill 

Thy weary breast with wrangling clamor, still 
Do low importunate desires remain 
To vex thy peace of soul ? Thou shalt attain 

Thy freedom not alone by power of will 

And lofty aspiration ; not until 
Thou make another's benefit and gain 
The object of thy earnest, strong endeavor. 

And think not even then to disinthrall 

Thy soul from selfish longings once for all. 
Thou must again strive on and on forever 

Towards larger liberty. Yet it may be. 

Death will have power at once to set thee free. 
58 



Uibe bf)ile ^ou ilibe. 

A VIEW of present life is all thou hast ! 
Oblivion's cloud, like a high-reaching wall, 
Conceals thy former being, and a pall 
Hangs o'er the gate through which thou 'It soon have 

passed. 
Dost chafe, in these close bounds imprisoned fast ? 
Perhaps thy spirit's memory needs, withal. 
Such limits, lest vague dimness should befall 
Its records of a life-duration vast. 
And artfully thy sight may be confined 

While thou art dwelling on this earthly isle, 
That its exceeding beauty may, the while. 
Infuse itself within thy growing mind. 

And fit thee, in some future state sublime, 
Haply, to grasp a wider range of time. 
59 



Mmmto MaxL 

T OOK, soul, how swiftly all things onward tend ! 
Such universal haste betokens need 
In Destiny's design of pressing speed. 
Speed thou, stay not until thou reach the end ! 
Upon the haste of time there may depend 

Some far-oif good. Thou child of Time, give 

heed, 
That with a willing heart and ready deed, 
To Time's great haste thy dole of speed thou lend ! 
Though beauteous scenes thy onward steps would 
stay. 
Press forward toward the Goal that beckons thee — 
The unimagined possibility 
Of all the mighty future to assay ! 

And when thou drawest near thy hour to die, 
Rejoice that one accomplishment is nigh. 
60 



m\ to ?gope, 

T IFE'S real good remains — shows no decrease. 
An inner sense of beauty still thou hast 
Albeit impressing forms have wholly passed : 
Thy love will never with its object cease. 
The ill of life is transient, though release 
Seem slow to thee. No discord will outlast 
The conflict, though desires of thine are cast 
In moulds too rigid for thy being's peace. 
Death's change they dread not who have well re- 
volved 
This truth ; — still hoping all and fearing naught, 
Though into elements ungrasped by thought 
The form of their desires shall be dissolved : — 
Hoping all conflict in that change may end, 
Trusting Life's good shall all Death's power tran- 
scend. 

6i 



''i^eason tf)us bitf) Hife." 

/^ LIFE of mine! I am not well assured, 

^ That the isolation separating thee 
From boundless being would forever be 

Thy highest good. Still, to be thus immured 

May well be deemed a precious boon, procured 
For none but favorites of Destiny ; — 
Even though the walls of personality, 

When for a little season they 've endured. 

Into the Unlimited must surely melt. 
For if thine isolation had not been. 
Sweet hfe, the many joys of thoughts serene 

That have been mine, had not as mine been felt : 
Still, hadst thou been not wholly separate, 
Joys might have been yet more serene and great. 
62 



" When I heard the Earth song.'''' 
TT THEN I reflect on Nature's mighty past, 

That far transcends the comprehending mind ; 
And countless years through which it seems de- 
signed 
Her unexhausted hfetime yet shall last ; 
And then with these durations, dim and vast. 
Compare the little space before, behind. 
Wherein my earthly being is confined, 
What triviality on this poor life is cast ! — 
Unless my soul clings to one truth sublime ; 
Whereby its self-assurance still it keeps 
While gazing into those abysmal deeps : — 
I 'm part of that which was throughout a time 
That reaches far back in eternity. 
And part of that which yet so long shall be. 
63 



T TPON Life's sea how high the billows surge! 
O soul, each bark has need its prow to keep 

Directed well against the wave-fronts steep, 
Nor let from that one line its course diverge. 
But fearest not when such strong waves shall urge 

Thy fragile skiff, such furious tempests sweep 

Thee, helpless, over the tumultuous deep. 
They '11 speedily thy being quite submerge ? 
Nay, my eternal home is that great sea ! 

Then why should I, though all unskilled and frail. 

Tremble at coming storms, and fear to sail 
The arduous voyage of my destiny ? 

I can but sink again, when tempest-spent, 

Into my home and native element. 
64 



Action anti i^est. 

A S if to reconcile us to our doom, 

Nature in fitting symbols has expressed 

The equal good of action and of rest. 
The splendors which the eastern sky illume 
As busy day approaches, when the gloom 

Of restful night draws near, glow in the west ; 

The earth in Autumn's aged foHage dressed, 
Is beautiful as in the Spring's fresh bloom ; 
And, weighing the alternate joy and pain 

Of changeful human life, the wisest sages. 

Who gather knowledge from all climes and ages. 
Have failed, and yet will fail, to ascertain 

Which hour is more auspicious — when the breath 

Is drawn at birth, or last expired in death. 
65 



Beatt) tf)t Heneber. 

'np WAS in far ancient days it did befall : 
-^ The forms of Nature, filling all the space 

Of their abode, had lost their youthful grace ; — 
The years were sadly withering great and small. 
And when the gods met in their council hall 

To choose out one among their mighty race. 

Who should renew the faded earth's wan face, 
None could perform the task among them all, — 
So strictly do the laws of Fate restrain 

Each to his proper work — save one alone ; 

Death felt the arduous duty was his own. 
Therefore, the sacred synod did ordain. 

And for all time was passed the high decree. 

That Death thenceforth should the Renewer be. 
66 



Beatf) anti Eobe. 

npOWARD Death, Love beareth enmity so great, 
From bitter words he can refrain not long, 

Though hushing fears within his breast are strong. 
And once Death cried to Jove against such hate : 
" I, serving Life most loyally, whom Fate 

Decrees my master, bear a grievous wrong; 

For Love, Life's pensioner, oft joins the throng 
Of them that name me but to execrate ! " 
Then Jove replied : " Was it ne'er told to thee 

How blind Love is ? He is Life's careful friend ; — 

Thy work in dissolution seems to end, 
And so thou seemst to him Life's enemy. 

For Love, with his dim vision, the return 

Thou renderest unto Life, cannot discern." 
67 



€f)e (guile of Nature. 

n^HOU knowest somewhat of Nature's strategems. 
Ofttimes, by strong desire, she moves thy will 

To deeds that profit not thyself, but still 
Are needed to promote her cherished schemes : 
And such thy love of earthly being seems, 

And fear of death's undemonstrated ill. 

'T is needful that these human ranks we fill 
A little longer here as Nature deems ; 
So to our weary life vague hope she brings, 

And stills with fear the discontented breast ; 

Lest souls become enamored of their rest, 
And earth too soon abandoned of her kings ; 

Lest dire disorder and calamity 

Befall the plans of highest Destiny. 
68 



N. 



iSutJanasia. 

OEEING our lives by Nature now are led 

^^ In an appointed way so tenderly ; 
So often lured by Hope's expectancy; 

So seldom driven by scourging pain and dread ; 

And though by destiny still limited 

Insuperably, our pleasant paths seem free : — 
May we not trust it ever thus shall be ? 

That when we come the lonely vale to tread, 

Leading away into the unknown night, 
Our Mother then, kindly persuasive still. 
Shall gently temper the reluctant will ? 

So, haply, we shall feel a strange delight. 
Even that dreary way to travel o'er. 
And the mysterious realm beyond explore. 
69 



PROLOGUE TO PART 11. 



prologue to lart H, 

''T^ IS needful there should be some stable forms 

Of faith, to give a resting place and stay 
To wavering virtue, lest the furious storms 

Of evil impulse bear the soul away. 

'T is needful that on conscious truth we lay 
Foundations for the forms of faith, so sure, 

That come the sweeping tempests whence they 
may, 
Resting upon unmoving rock secure, 
Those soul-sustaining forms unshaken shall endure. 

And well I trust all earnest souls, if each 
Delve in the soil whereon its life has grown, 

A sure foundation for their faith may reach. 
The seeming and uncertain are bestrown 
73 



PROLOGUE TO PART II. 

O'er all experience, yet the surely known, 
Whose truthfulness all minds may apprehend, 

Lies underneath — firm as the floors of stone 
Below earth's varied surface, that extend 
The same where valleys sink and stately hills ascend 



O brother, though I seem not well to found 
My joy and confidence in love divine; 

Though only few have chosen adjacent ground. 
Whose surface seems to give as doubtful sign 
Of solid rock beneath as this of mine. 

Whereon to build belief; although thou trace 
No common stay between my faith and thine. 

Connecting while it severs them in space. 

Yet deeply they may rest upon the same sure base. 



And if the edifice of faith I rear 

Upon foundations that have seemed to me 
Both steadfast and secure, to thee appear 

Of scant dimensions, blame not hastily 
74 



PROLOGUE TO PART 11. 

The ground whereon it rests. It well may be 
If I had delved more widely, and laid bare 

A broader underlying certainty, 
A risen structure would have stood even there. 
As high as thou hast built — as stately and as fair. 



Yet, brother, scorn not the abode wherein 
My soul with peace and comfort doth reside ; 

For it hath spacious, lightsome rooms within : 
Hath one with outlook unobscured and wide, 
Whereinto shine the stars on every side ; 

Where hope finds refuge when by fear sore pressed. 
For signs of Highest Goodness, verified 

By clear responses heard within the breast, 

Have builded for my soul a bower of holy rest. 



Hath one, that often to the externally 
Beholding, shows a gloomy look within ; 

For evidence of sad necessity 

Requiring conflict, suffering and sin, 
75 



PROLOGUE TO PART 11. 

And all the ills that are, or e'er have been 
Hath reared its walls : yet if my spirit choose 

Therein to dwell awhile, its sight can win. 
Of human life and ruling laws, such views 
As with contentful peace the feeling thought infuse. 



It hath another, whose transparent sides 
Consist of clear persuasions that all light 

Has come from heaven. Within it Doubt abides, 
And for all outward radiance claims a right 
To enter — both the beautiful and bright 

And that which clouds reflect of sombre hue. 
Yet oft my soul there stays the livelong night : 

For in the darksome hours 't is only through 

Clear, crystal walls can pass gleams of the fair and 
true. 

And one, whose consecrated space no sound 
But thanksgiving and adoration knows. 

Confirmed beliefs in Mind that hath no bound. 
And in all being lives and rules, compose 
16 



PROLOGUE TO PART 11. 

The lasting structure of its walls that rose 
As if by power of music ; when the sign 

Of conscious purpose, Nature often shows, 
Did with the reasoning consciousness combine 
To form a silent chord — faith in a Thought Divine. 

n 



PART II. 

FAITH 



Iligi)t in Bareness, 

*' Though Nature y red in tooth and claiv 
With ravin, shrieked against his creed.'''' 

TTOW oft, when seamen on a wreck from whence 
The foaming billows soon must sweep them, 
plead 
With Heaven for help in that dread hour of need, 
The storm roars on, none of its rage relents! 
Such harsh succession of the earth's events. 
And early deaths whereof there seems no heed 
In Nature's heart, might make us doubt, indeed. 
If aught but selfish strife of the elements, 
The ordinations of the world controls ! 
Yet in the Uncreated there must be 
A source of predetermined tendency 
Which shapes at least a few sweet human souls — 
Of goodness and of beauty types serene — 
Else one my heart has loved would ne'er have 
been. 

8i 



dFitJei dFuntiamentum. 

'■'■ If I but remember only. 
Such as these have lived and dicd.^'' 

11 /FY soul's grief cannot rightfully atone 

^ ^ Even for one hour of an ungrateful mood. 

Our blessings lay a debt of gratitude 
Upon us, that remains when they have flown. 
Sweet, disembodied soul! O, you have shown, 

In the unselfish aims your life pursued. 

So clear an evidence that God is good, 
My trust in Him no faltering should have known ; 
Nor can I ever with just reason fear 

As one who feels no firm ground for his faith ; 

Even though you were not saved from early death ! 
Even though I never more on earth shall hear 

The soft tones of your words so true and wise, 

Nor see the tender glow of your dear eyes. 
82 



*^|ge tfiat dFormeti tfjr IHpe sjall ?^e not .See? ^^ 

T F love has been created, if it flows 

Not forth immediately from the Divine ; 

If to bring aught to pass along some line 
Of His great scheme, it pleased God to compose 
Love out of elements that ne'er disclose 

The power and aim of love till they combine, 

The inward thought that must be, ere design 
To outward, realized existence grows. 
Would still support our trust that God is good. 

Though He who formed the eye see not with eyes, 

Yet must the earliest purpose to devise 
Sight for the yet unseeing, have pursued. 

As final object, that which adumbrated 

The vision then existing, uncreated, 
83 



Ko .Secontiarg (Kauise of Uobe. 
I. 

IVTO chance from selfish motives could compose 
The unselfish goodness we have known to be. 

That which in human hearts we sometimes see, 
In Nature's heart pure goodness doth disclose. 
Search ye its forming cause ? Your science throws 

In vain its light upon that mystery. 

Thou Cause beyond our knowledge! thanks to thee 
For all unselfish love life ever shows : — 
For every action of self-sacrifice, 

Country or race or kindred to defend ; 

For every kindly thought of friend for friend 
That e'er was told by looks of meeting eyes, 

Whereby our doubting minds may clearly prove 

That in thy Being is a source of love. 
84 



iEo Sfcontiarp Otause of Itobe, 
II. 

OINCE oft a soul's self-seeking pathway lies 

^^ Through others' gain, 't is said that many driven 

By self-love's impulse, purposely have striven 
For others' good unto self-sacrifice. 
Strangely-deceived Self-love ! through the disguise 

Of others' good thou sawst thy own — 't was 
given 

Oft to thy grasp ; — couldst thou forget it ? even 
Prefer that which is hateful to thine eyes ? 
I think the selfish bee, even if she knew 

How many a sweetly blooming race yet lives 

Through fertilizing aids her pillage gives. 
Would ne'er forget to sip the honey-dew. 

And but for it the drowsy summer hours 

Not long would hear her hum among the flowers. 
85 



5at)ique et ^tm^tt. 



I. 



T OVE that regards not self we daily feel ! 

Rejoice my soul, that thou such love dost 
know; 

And should the wise, defining clearly, show 
The power of love, with its true warmth and zeal. 
In many an instinct lower lives reveal. 

Rejoice no less. But on no aim bestow 

The name of love unless it outward go — 
Abandon self to work another's weal. 
O Spirit of Love, dost thou indeed pervade 

All the degrees of Being ? All the more 

Will I thy omnipresent power adore ! 
Although thy function in each lower grade 

Dim knowledge to our minds of thee imparts. 

Till thou revealest thyself in human hearts. 
86 



5at)ique tt ^tmpn, 
II. 

QHOW me that lower instincts have ascended 

"^ During vast time in slow gradation due, 
Till to the height of human love they grew ! 

Yea, even that these arose from force expended 

In orbits of primeval atoms blended 

In the old chaos ! Joyful were such view 
Of the unselfish impulse, active through 

The world's vast former lifetime, and extended 

Beyond into eternity foregone. 

If ancient atom-pulses have become 
Through favoring concurrence, in their sum. 

Motives that to all kindly deeds lead on 

The human soul, doubt not they always strove 
In the direction, with the aim of love. 
87 



r\ JUDGE not Nature by the mantle cold 

^^' That wraps the wintry earth and all its graves, 

Nor by the summer landscape as it waves 
Beneath the breeze. To thee was never told 
The meaning those external views infold ; 

In vain thy soul with theirs communion craves. 

But if the power of life to thee yet saves 
Dear human fellowship, and thou canst hold 
Within thy heart the joys and griefs that swell 

Another's heart, whene'er with blest surprise 

Deeply-illumined, softly-glowing eyes 
Meet with thy own, thou understandest well 

What Nature then reveals to thee. O, rest 

Thy thought of her on what thou knowest best. 
88 



iao 5l2Ha!Ste of Eife. 

^^And early deaths whereof there seems no heed 
In Nature''s heart, — " 

TJ EAR what self- vindicating Nature saith : — 

"In hymeneal songs I tell my mirth 

And every new life from its hour of birth 
The fullness of my love inheriteth. 
My hardest strife is to prolong the breath 

Of helpless young, in danger, cold, and dearth. 

My tears in parents' eyes bedew the earth 
Beside the monuments of early death. 
I, heedless that so many must forego 

Life's sweetness after one short moment's taste ? 

Each brief existence proves I will not waste 
One drop of precious life, but will bestow 

On each, with equal, unremitting care, 

Its least and greatest law-appointed share." 
89 



OOME tendencies within thy soul I learn, 
^ O Nature, since of thy great life my own 

Is part — the part to me best known, 
Wherein thy aims directly I discern 
Oft in my soul thy kind affections yearn ; 

But often outward acts of thine have shown 

Harshness that tender human hearts bemoan. 
Can kindness dwell with will so hard and stern ? 
Thus Nature answers : " Thou art part of me; 

Search in each part the qualities of the Whole 

But seek no measure in thy partial soul 
To mete the bounds of my necessity, 

Or mark the final object of my hope ! 

It far transcends thy powers' utmost scope." 
90 



" That self might be anmilled — its bondage prove 
The fetters of a dream opposed to love."^ 

1\ /rOURN that man's soul is selfish, but defame 

^^^ Not Nature. Thy regrets 't will soothe to 
heed 
His spirit's adolescence. Thou 'It concede 

One want may his first efforts justly claim. 

To grow must needs be the young soul's first aim, 
Yea, duty ! and the motives which this need 
Begets, and rears into accomplished deed, 

Though selfish, do not all deserve thy blame. 

When such maturity the soul attains, 

That care of self may cease, then it extends 
Its sympathy to other lives, and blends 

Its joy with theirs, its sorrow with their pains ; 
And finds through consciousness of brotherhood 
Its own desire sufficed by others' good. 
91 



OTontpIaintis anli Enstoers^ 



AT THEREFORE, O Nature, thy excessive zeal? 
Thy aims are doubtless right, but oft the deed 

Of time and place appears to take no heed, 
And therefore not to reach the general weal. 
'T is not that thou shouldst less profusely deal : — 

We chide thee, not because the ripened seed 

So oft surpasses all apparent need — 
Such care thou seemest for thy types to feel. 
But when thou seest Death invade our life, 

'Gainst his approach thou dost protest through 
pain. 

Sometimes prevailing, and sometimes in vain : 
O why, when hope remains not in the strife. 

Dost thou prolong thy ineffectual plea 

Of agony, for life that cannot be ? 
92 



OTtimplaints anti anslners. 
II. 

'T^HINK not, my children, that the spring's bare 
plain 
Alone incites my care of seeds, — know ye, 
The very germs of life are dear to me, 

Although their hope of growth they ne'er attain. 

And call not fruitless pangs my protest vain 
Against the near destroying power I see 
Approach a life I love too tenderly. 

Behold the struggling life itself is pain ! 

And can ye find it in your hearts to blame 
My ceaseless love, and charge it with excess, 
Because when life's low fire grows less and less. 

And now burns only with a flickering flame, 
I will not quench it, nor the faintest spark 
That lingers yet awhile ere all is dark ? 
93 



atomplaintis anti Enslners. 
III. 

'T^HE best of human rulers oft forego 

A wonted law-enforcement, if it lead 

To grievous hardship. Laws by thee decreed, 
O Sovereign Nature, are not tempered so 
By mercy, but alike through joy and woe 

Unanswering, unrelenting, still proceed ! 

Forsooth of fixed succession there is need, 
That thinking beings may their future know. 
Yet such slight swerving as would oft avert 

Unmeasured anguish, scarce could make us lose 

Faith in our prescience. Still thou dost refuse. 
Does order so much more control exert 

In thy heart than in ours — or so much less 

The care of sentient creature's happiness ? 
94 



atomplamts anti angberjs. 

IV. 

A^E well may grieve, O children, if it seem 
My constancy to order e'er impedes 
The granting of one boon for which love pleads ! 

Within my heart the longing is supreme 

To give and cherish life, and none will deem 
The love of mere unloving order leads 
My just, undeviating course, who heeds 

The vast repleteness of the world's life-scheme. 

Of life, real and potential, know ye well, 
The universe is full ! My pulses waste 
No intermediate efforts while they haste 

From life to life its progress to impel. 
Where'er my law-directed purpose tends, 
The means through which it passes all are ends. 
95 



Cf)e Otobenant. 

'T^HE properties of the elements, if scanned 

When thought is clearest, seem the seal extant 
Of an inviolate, solemn covenant, 

Wherein has been with plain distinctness planned 

A scheme of bounty that unchanged shall stand. 
Omnipotence is firmly bound to grant 
Each promised favor, which the feeblest want. 

Assured of full performance, may demand. 

Each particle of Being, though but dust 
That flies and whirls according to the laws 
Of outward and of inward forces, draws 

Its proper share in the allotment just 

Of help divine, toward the one perfect end 
Whither, all ibrms of Nature strive and tend. 
96 



lao promise IScofeen. 

JUSTICE of God, O most impartially 
Thou judgest ! Though we scarce can bear the 
light 
Of heavenly emanations, pure and bright 
As thy divine, transcendent equity. 
The lowest worm will ne'er be wronged by thee; 
Though the denial to so mean a wight 
Of some small portion of its lawful right, 
Would save a noble life from agony, 
And grant a boon besought with urgent prayer. 
Thy sentence is that promises divine. 
Which Nature's laws promulgate and define, 
Shall not to one be broken, though its share 
Of favor be so small, 't would seem not hard 
So low and mean a thing to disregard. 
97 



TT THEN Sorrow first appeared in Heaven of yore, 
^ The angels by the voice of Fame beguiled, 

Believed he sprang from God's unreconciled 
Resentment toward some wrong that vexed Him sore. 
But strange it seemed — they marveled more and 
more — 

That one of mien so meek, and look so mild. 

Should be of such stern parentage the child ; 
Till heavenly Truth her tidings to them bore : 
" This beauteous stranger seraph whom ye see. 

Is offspring of that Hierarch benign, 

Who reconciles in unison divine. 
The perfect peace of present Deity 

And strifes through which Creation's work goes 
on, — 

Of God's great Patience ye behold the son." 



5rf)e SSJorfe of iKbil. 

T N the great Hierarchy of the skies 

''■ The seat of Harmony is next the Throne, 

To the angels, times and places to make known 
Wherein obedient zeal to act should rise. 
Now Satan's fall of old was in this wise : 

Once, when desire that just before had flown 

Warm from the Eternal Heart, throbbed in his 
own. 
With Harmony not waiting to advise. 
He flew in haste the prompting pulse to obey. 

Thus he estranged the highest Harmony ; 

And then not knowing how to make agree 
His works with Nature's wants, became the prey 

Of unadapted impulse, — and he still. 

Striving to do the good, does only ill. 
99 



E\\t iHtoion of Socroh). 



"QETWEEN the world-directing Harmony 

And Evil — who 't is said in Heaven once bore 
A name remembered on the earth no more — 

Estrangement grew to such high enmity, 

The peace of Heaven was brought in jeopardy, — 
Contentious thoughts that ne'er were known before 
Vexing celestial bosoms o'er and o'er ! 

Still the Supreme chose not by stern decree 

To exercise His high arbitrament; 
But summoning a seraph from among 
His waiting messengers, one fair and young, 

Sorrow by name, him graciously He sent, 
On Evil's restless ardor to impose 
Restraining guidance of experienced woes. 



II. 

\ LTHOUGH at first impetuous Evil spurns 

Sorrow's restraints, they grow in strength until 

The purpose of their being they fulfill, 
And Harmony no more offense discerns. 
But Evil with unlessened longing yearns 

Toward the divine activity ; and still, 

When pulses of divine incitement thrill 
His being, with intemperate zeal he burns. 
Therefore must constant Sorrow yet restrain 

His zealous ardor, that his deeds may be 

Acceptable to highest Harmony. 
And thus it seems it ever shall remain : — 

As moderating guardian till the end, 

Sorrow on Evil closely shall attend. 

lOI 



A MONG the sons of God the Accuser came 
" And said : " Your willing virtue is not free 

That which ye are doth lay necessity 
Upon your choice — ye must and will the same. 
The Eternal Will cannot exemption claim 

From laws the Eternal Being doth decree : 

Effect and cause are linked unchangeably, 
Constructing Destiny's unyielding frame." 
Then answered he, the Clearly Seeing called : 

''True, O Accuser, as thy words have shown, 

The effect that is was possible alone ! 
But thinkest thou our hearts can be appalled 

By that wherein we find assurance blest ? 

The Possible is one, since 't is the best." 

I02 



Cf)e Mtntal Spectrum. 

r\F the reflected rays of soul-light, few 

From nearest objects reach the intellect ; 

And formed beliefs within the mind deflect 
And part them variously while passing through, — 
Making the images they cast not true 

To outward things. Yet 't is by this defect 

Of mind-transparency that we detect 
Most beauteous beams, else hidden from our view. 
'T is thus the falling rain drops, half opaque. 

The clear, uncolored sunbeam decompose ; 

Yet the refracted light which through them flows 
Is that which God selects, when He would make 

A sign to gladden every creature's eye. 

And sets His rainbow in the evening sky. 
103 



Cf)e ^ennancnce of Cruti). 

'■^ All the forms are fugitive. 
But the substances survived 

/^UR creeds of living essence of the mind 

^^ Consist, of conscious life-experience, 

Which by the lights and shades of evidence 
Has into formed ideas been defined. 
And though full many a creed may have declined 

Within our souls, they failed not wholly thence : 

Their substance shares the spirit's permanence, 
Though to decay their forms have been consigned. 
And should the essence of the mind remain 

Fixed in one form, with no progressive change? 

Through higher, fairer ranks no longer range 
The unfulfilled Ideal to attain ? 

Nature not always will permit to hold 

Her liveliest substance in one hardened mould. 
104 



"\ 1 THEN we look backward to the early rise 

Of human thought — to Faith's far distant 
youth, 
We see in old beliefs, strange and uncouth, 
Much that all earnest souls forever prize, 
Though many a present creed we quite despise ; 
Because form-crumbling years have freed, forsooth, 
Those ancient faiths from falsehood, while their 
truth. 
Substantial, still remains beneath our eyes. 
But loving souls are strengthened by discerning 
The truth in every faith on which they brood ; 
Long ere its form, perhaps unfit and rude. 
And hardened in the flames of zeal still burning. 
The crumbling power of lapsing time has felt ; 
For by their softening warmth all forms they melt. 
105 



(grcibtt)!? from tf)e Soul. 

''T^ IS pleasant wending peacefully and slow 

Among the creeds, in thought's warm, still 
retreat. 
To note their outward contrasts, and to greet 

The inward harmonies of soul they show. 

The roots of all strike deeply, far below 

In spirit-substance. Rising, they may meet 
Misshaping influence, but life-sap sweet 

They draw from out the soil whereon they grow. 

And throughout all that wondrous wilderness. 
From every bough a spirit fragrance drips. 
And fruit hangs down even to the hungry lips 

Of him who through the forest dares to press. 
And underneath each lofty growth are found 
Meek flowers of feeling, covering all the ground. 
1 06 



f^Se Bimness of Jgistori?. 

"T^OR me, dense ignorance beclouds past time, 
Except the little space that memory clears ; 
Save when my ear, with eager listening, hears 

Wise men, whom Destiny permits to climb 

Earth's speculative heights, serene, subhme ; 
As they narrate how to their sight appears 
The far extending retrospect of years — 

Even far away toward human story's prime. 

But, ah me, they report so variously ! 
And no fit umpire, I, with measured line 
From point to point those objects to define, 

Which they upon the heights but darkly see ! 
I only feel in this one faith secure, — 
Then were, as now, the just and good and pure. 
107 



CJeCest of Crutf). 

T F ye have precious truths that yet remain 

■^ Unknown to me, O teach me them ! Each way 
Into my soul I open wide, that they 

May enter straightway and beUef constrain. 

But urge not fear of loss nor hope of gain 
To rouse my will, and move it to essay 
To shape my soul's belief or tinge one ray 

Of Nature's light ! All willful faith must pain 

The Genius of true Faith, who asks assent, 
Not even to dearest truths, until the hour 
Arrives of their belief-compelling power ; 

That so the energy they will have spent 
In wrestling with our unbelief, at length 
May be transformed into believing strength. 
1 08 



Cf)e (©mce of UnMitt 

'T^RUTH has prevailing power 'gainst all reply, 
■^ The due effect whereof she cannot lose. 
Except when arrogant beliefs refuse 

To let the reason scan and testify. 

But Unbelief will be thy firm ally, 

O Truth, and will remain, if her thou choose, 
Most faithful, though defaming tongues accuse 

Her faithfulness, and say she will deny 

Thy right to enter souls ! She does but strive 
To keep thy beautiful abodes unmarred 
By lawless occupancy, and to guard 

Against wrong ingress until thou arrive ; 
And with a voice of unmistaken tone. 
Demand and gain entrance into thine own. 
109 



Ikfannrcu^c of Boutt, 

** There is jiwre faith in honest doubt, 
Believe me, than in half the creeds.'''' 

I. 

\ N angel whose delight is to dispense 

God's truth, thus to a prophet gave command : 
" Take now this truth, and going through the land 
Teach it in form that fits the intelligence 
Of them that hear ; — a blessed consequence 

Succeeds true faith." * * * g^i; when the 

prophet scanned 
His finished work, and saw a blessing hand 
Distribute faith's rewards, he took offense. 
For some souls who appeared to have full well 
Accepted all the message he declared 
From Heaven, had in the heavenly blessing shared 
Even less than others, who, most strange to tell, 
In doubt, on farther scrutiny intent. 
Still to a truth of God delayed assent. 
no 



Hecompenise of 2aou!)t. 
11. 

'T^HE prophet to the angel then addressed 
■*■ Complaining words: "With credence unde- 
layed 

These willingly accepted all I said. 
Why are not they conspicuously blessed ? " 
And thus the angel answered : " Though professed 

So promptly, yet this faith does not pervade 

Their being, — only on the surface laid 
And lightly by thy power thereon impressed. 
The doctrine thou hast offered them they take 

With languid scrutiny, assent inert. 

Not thus can truth its conquering force exert ! 
And only souls that full resistance make. 

Are, when convinced, assimilated well 

Unto the truth. Let it beUef compel ! " 
III 



Monti antj Jgope. 

IT THAT time the Eternal Council did ordain 
^ That men might hope, but not the future 
know, 

One asked : " If Doubt, Hope's ever-present foe. 
Is made immortal, may not Hope be slain ? " 
And one replied : " Not evermore these twain 

A look of mutual enmity will show ; 

For Hope will all her joyful freedom owe 
To the wide liberty of Doubt's domain. 
While Doubt asserts the unknown, she will deny 

Naught of the future good Hope seems to see. 

As well her words will show such good may be 
More than it seems." Then Hope with kindling eye 

Will answer: "Thou to me such strength dost 
give. 

My sister, I without thee cannot live." 

112 



A LTHOUGH we may not choose nor hold a 

■^ ^ creed 

Because the heart's strong yearning it contents, 
Yet whatsoe'er behef with fact consents, 

And satisfies within the soul the need 

Of harmony, — giving a clew to lead 
The unperplexed, assured intelligence 
Through all the mazes of experience. 

Reason may to our Uves' strong want concede. 

For 't is the work of Truth to reconcile 

Thought's discords ; and whatever in the name 
Of Truth fulfills her function, well may claim 

Of loyal souls to be received, meanwhile. 
Till superseded by an embassy 
Of higher grade in Truth's vicegerency. 
113 



laelatibe Ccuti). 

QHOULD drooping eyelids from mine eyes con- 

^ ceal 

The sky's expanse, still to my downward sight 
A pool's smooth surface in a cloudless night, 

Heaven's peaceful, starry aspect might reveal. 

And though at times the stars might seem to reel 
And tremble, if I then should note aright 
The wavelets moving o'er that surface bright. 

And the disturbing breeze distinctly feel, 

My reason would with full assurance know 
The tumult in that earth-reflected view 
Of heaven, to earthly tumult must be due ; 

And that the image the still waters show, 
Must in its look so tranquil and serene 
Be truer to realities unseen. 
114 



(Eertitutje. 

" The heart 
Stood tip and aiisivered, I have felt. " 

^' r\ SOUL, thy knowledge only can include 

The Seeming ! How canst thou escape the 

fear 

That falsely all things may to thee appear, 

Even these which thou hast called the Fair and 

Good ? " 

I asked. My soul replied with hardihood : — 

" Laws of my life have led me to revere 

And to admire. Experience so clear ; 

Gives me sure knowledge, perfect certitude. 

And if, as I must deem, my being's laws 

Have to all conscious being been assigned, 

Surely throughout the universe of Mind 

Such impulse as their equal sway would cause. 

Is felt ; and these clear promptings which I feel 

A truth of universal scope reveal." 

115 



\T7HEN Nature's calm and greatness hush the 
cry 
Of every conscious want within thy breast, 
Or others' joys have made thee wholly blest, 

Ask of thy soul, and on each clear reply 

Defining what is life's real good, rely. 

Deeply in memory be its truth impressed, 
Thereon securely high-built faith may rest, 

Whence Hope's far land thou mayst almost espy. 

For in such hours thy soul has oft averred 
That some of its delights though they remain 
Briefly as others, mixed no less with pain, 

Are yet forevermore to be preferred. 
No other evidence hast thou required 
To prove them better — more to be desired. 
ii6 



'T^HE presence of the beautiful ye know 

By one sure sign, in only one blest hour ; 

'T is only when ye feel your souls' own dower 
Of beauty larger, more contentful, grow. 
And all its outward sway doth beauty owe 

Unto its widely self-diffusing power. 

That radiates from the petals of a flower. 
From lines and angles of a flake of snow ; 
That makes the stars shed peace serene and great 

On troubled minds through upward looking eyes ; 

One noble action of self-sacrifice 
The daily lives of millions elevate ; 

And clear, accordant songs of souls sublime 

Echo from kindred souls through endless time. 
117 



dFormatibe ii3eautg, 

Tl WHENE'ER the atoms into forms combine, 
The grouping, shaping forces seem to owe 

Allegiance to the beautiful, and show 
Beauty has power to mould and to define. 
Its blessed presence seems a potent sign 

Which e'en obdurate elements well know ; 

Toward it alone will Nature's favors flow, 
Even with its measure metes the Grace Divine. 
For when, attent, the beautiful we view, 

And radiant beauty enters through the sight. 

The soul is filled with hope and deep delight ; 
As if its being were assured anew ; — 

As if the right to be had been bestowed 

Only where Beauty maketh its abode. 
ii8 



CJelober of tfieBeal. 

'T^HE forms that are do not alone decide 

The course of plastic Nature : rights of these 

Limit the power of onward tendencies ; 
But forms to be, the shaping effort guide. 
Mark what the mental vision verified 

By reason, in rebounding bodies sees ! 

When equipoise of clashing energies 
Is reached, the undriven atoms backward glide — 
A form that was and is not, but shall be, 

Determining the swift, exact recoil. 

And likewise witnesseth the artist's toil, 
That still unfashioned forms most potently 

Arouse and rule efforts to make them real, 

Through Beauty's power, efficient though ideal. 
119 



T N every soul are purposes whose names 

May be unknown, yet are they loved full well. 

We live for their sake, and beyond the knell, 
For their fulfillment Hope a new hfe claims. 
Wide influence have they : within our frames 

All of the multitudinous lives that dwell 

In forms distinct of fibre or of cell, 
Join with consenting effort in their aims. 
O daring Hope ! when all the forms decay 

Wherein reside the forces that now strive 

To serve these purposes, will they survive ? 
Will other energies their rule obey ? 

They may forsooth, for Purpose ever guides 

The powers of Nature, and naught else abides. 
1 20 



Cje ^ast anti tlje dFutuce, 

"QEFORE me rose the buried Past, and said: 

"The Future is mine heir, whom from my grave 

I rule, for she shall naught inherit save 
That whereupon my strict constraint is laid." 
I heard, and to the Future turned dismayed : 

" O radiant with all brightness that we crave, 

Of the dead Past art thou to be the slave ? " 
The Future spake, in hues of dawn arrayed : 
" Hope is forever mine, and in pursuit 

Of Hope all past succession was ordained. 

By no imposed necessity constrained 
My deeds shall seem, for Hope can well transmute 

Each impulse which unchanging laws require, 

To yearning tendency and sweet desire." 

121 



CJe ^ecsistertce of it>opr. 

n^HOU grievest that disappointment seems the 
sure, 
The one sure end man's efforts shall achieve ! 
Consoling comfort dost thou not receive, 

Seeing what sore defeats Hope can endure ? 

Although our lives' achievements seem so poor 
That through the past again we would not live, 
With promise yet to conquer or retrieve. 

The future doth as strongly still allure. 

And well thou mayst believe that Hope derives 
Her light from no past joys; for if thou add 
To all that e'er have made thy own life glad 

Remembered joys of far ancestral lives, 

When focused in the lamp of Hope, their beams 
Form not the roseate light that thence outstreams. 

122 



A TOT solely by the impulse from the Past 

-'" ^ The World is moved. A World-hope, old and 
great, 
Has prompted Nature to perpetuate 

Her races during all her aeons vast. 

And in our human hopes that yet outlast 
The ills of life, we feel a future state 
Attracting, though the gains that for us wait 

Only the World-hope clearly can forecast. 

Thou vast, minute IntelHgence ! that dost, 
By all-inclusion of the near and far. 
Link things that shall be unto things that are, 

Whereby the Future, beautiful and just. 

Doth guiding influence to the Present send, 
Into thy hands my being 1 commend. 



LOOK backward to the dawn of thought; thy 
sight 
Reaches at length black darkness through the gray. 

Look forward ; in the earth's assured decay 
Darkness returns, reclaims its ancient right. 
What deemst thou of this glorious mental light 

That now o'erspreads the earth ? Was its white 
ray 

Born of black darkness ? Will it pass away 
Again into the unillumined night ? 
Must not the primal spark have been derived 

From some great self-existent source sublime, 

Where during unoriginated time 
The unlessened kindling radiance has survived, 

And where forevermore undimmed and pure 

The intellectual light shall still endure ? 

124. 



partial l^eatiingg. 

'T^HOUGH the great Scroll wherein have been 
outlined 

By Nature, thoughts of God, deep and immense. 

We cannot read, yet gleams of meaning thence 
At times shine on us, clear, distinct, defined. 
Hence comes assurance that the human mind 

Though weak in reason, and obtuse in sense. 

Still owns a share of that intelligence 
Whereby the great World-builder has designed 
The wondrous plans which Nature's works disclose. 

A child who scans the philosophic page 

Of some profoundly meditative sage, 
May see familiar phrases, — then he knows 

That his own simple thoughts and childish lore 

Are part of the great scholar's mental store. 
125 



Utgjt (fleams. 

/^OD'S glory, lest it blind our human sight, 

Hath been behind material forms concealed; 

Yet to our eyes brief glimpses are revealed 
Of radiance we must deem divinely bright. 
For hast thou not had moments when such light 

Has gleamed upon thee, thou wast forced to yield 

Thy will to worship ? In a lonely field 
Or mid a clamorous throng, by day or night, 
When gazing on a landscape, star, or cloud. 

Strong rapture seized thee, and before a view 

Of the forever Beautiful and True, 
In reverence profound thy spirit bowed 

For a brief season; then the vision passed. 

O, that such gleams of the divine would last ! 
126 



CJe Bibme Immanence* 

*' All are bid parts of one stupendous whole. 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.'" 

I. 

r^OD from the world distinguish, — from the great 
But known Effect, the unknown greater Cause ! 
From aught our minds conceive, that which but 
awes 

Our souls with thoughts that past their bounds dilate. 

But call these twain not wholly separate. 
Confess that every natural process draws 
Its moving power through channels, which as laws 

Within the heart of God originate. 

And may there not be nerves which from the seat 
Of the Divine Intelligence arise 
And reach the world's remotest boundaries ? 

Unfelt are these by us, — they do not beat 
Like arteries of Law even to their ends 
When the great Heart its life-pulsations sends. 
127 



Cf)e Bibme immanence. 

^^ If we could see and hear. 
This vision, were it not He?'''' 

11. 

A TO doubt a wise philosopher was he 

Who called the Universe "Thought petrified 
But does a whole truth in his words abide ? 

Perchance the Thought Divine not really 

Is petrified : all this solidity 

May be my sense of Being, that outside 
My own continues, and so unallied. 

It but resists, — yields me no sympathy. 

But if the hills and valleys are to One, 
O soul of mine, as now thy subtile essence 
Is unto me, through a pervading presence. 

And through the inner hfe's experience known, 
To Him their substance may appear as free 
From stony hardness, even as thine to me ! 
128 



*'C5e (^lori? of tf)e Uocti sfjall ©ntiure dFor: 

'X^HE forces that prevail eternally, 

And those that seem to quickly vanish hence, 
Are emanations from Omnipotence 

Of self-conserving, ceaseless energy. 

And whatso in the changeless entity 
Of God originates, partaketh thence 
Of the divine, essential permanence : — 

Whatever is because He is, shall be. 

O, then to strengthen trust, thyself assure, 
In every fearful, every doubting mood. 
From God came forth the Beautiful and Good ; 

And as the Eternal Glory shall endure, 

They in His changelessness shall still abide 
Unwasted, mid destruction far and wide. 
129 



" \T0 man may look upon my face and live! " 
^ 'T is well He veils perfection from our sight ; 
And if because of visions clear and bright, 

Which raptured souls in ecstacy achieve, 

They deem assuredly that they perceive 
A perfect type of the Eternal beauty — 
Truth absolute, the final Goal of Duty — 

That day they suffer death without reprieve ! 

Since one activity within the mind, 

Through which its highest life is manifest — 
One effort toward the unattained Best, 

Must then its final check and limit find : 
'T is satisfied, it makes no farther quest, 
It can but sink to death's unending rest ! 
130 



(Kompenisation. 

r^OD asks from creatures for His plenitude 

Of goodness, no return. Without the hire 

Of prayer or praise or love, till they expire 
He feeds the teeming earth's unthankful brood. 
That each demand shall with the general good 

Of all consist, His justice must require; 

And to His yearning bounty, such desire 
Ascends a grateful offering, like food 
To weary, fainting men whom famine gnaws. 

The creature need affords a counterpart 

To the outflowing of the Mighty Heart. 
Recurrent stream of love ! supply it draws 

From wants of all created life, and pours 

Replenishment into Love's Primal Source. 
131 



'' lecfect Hobe Otastetf) out dFear." 

"P^EAR thou a creature with self-guarding fear. 
Too far from thee for sympathy, the ill 

Thou ofiferest him he may return, until 
The hard requital brings thee penance drear. 
But fear not so the One to thee so near 

His being doth include thy own — His will 

Rewilling thy volitions, doth fulfill 
Their aims through powers that not in thine mhere. 
And O, beware lest thy distrusting doubt 

Dishonor Love divine, and the attribute 

Of narrow finitude to it impute 
By deeming any soul can be without 

Its blest embrace. At once each fear reprove 

And hush by faith in all-including Love. 
132 



Cf)e i^i'sit ISteniaL 

" The ivrotig that pains my soul beloiv, 
I dare not throne above." 

T F any, as an advocate who pleads 

Religion's cause, shall to mankind proclaim 
The rule and test of right is not the same 

For motives whence a human act proceeds, 

And purposes of God's great sovereign deeds, — 
That right, forsooth, by God's command became, 
Beware of the false prophet ! In the name 

Of Faith's defender, he avers what needs 

Must the foundation of all faith remove. 

For what supports even your most holy trust 
That all is well, and will be with the just, 

If your clear intuitions do not prove 

The laws of right which pure souls apprehend, 
Unchanged, throughout all time and space extend ? 
133 



Ci^e (JTn'tecion of fCebelation. 
I. 

'T^HUS spake Elisha to the Shunamite : 
-'■ " The angel of the Lord, with voice to dread, 

Has bidden that thy son, raised from the dead, 
Be offered a burnt-offering on the height 
Of Carmel ! He who gave thy heart's dehght, 
Twice pitying thee, now bids that it be laid 
Upon His altar." But the woman said : 
" O, man of God ! ne'er would that cruel rite 
Be claimed by Him who gave me back my bo}-. 
Some evil spirit has thine ear deceived 1 
I know that He who pitied when I grieved 
And turned the anguish of my heart to joy, 
Would not desire such painful sacrifice — 
No incense sweet to Him would thence arise." 
134 



€t)e attiumn of l^ebelation. 
II. 

" TJAST thou the wisdom to determine when 

Commands from Heaven are His, and when 
not so ? 

How can a heart He trieth, if it show 
Bold disobedience, ever hope again ? " 
The prophet spake, but not less boldly then 

The woman: — "Well His goodness do I know. 

My faith therein no words can overthrow, 
Spoken by angels or by holy men. 
He tries me by this test ? It cannot be 

He so delighteth in obedience 

That He would break a heart to draw it thence. 
No proof thereof would make Him pleased to see 

A mother's agony, though hushed her cries, 

When yielding up her child for sacrifice." 
'35 



CJe (UtiUmn of IRebelaticin. 
III. 

r^LlSHA sped away to Carmel's wild, 

And to the Lord thus prayed with many a tear: 

" Be merciful to her who will not hear 
Thy word, though thou didst raise to life her child!" 
And the Lord answered with reproof though mild : 

" For her thou needst not my displeasure fear ! 

An evil spirit did deceive thine ear. 
Now learn of her to be no more beguiled ; 
For, mindful of the favor to her given. 

She in my goodness hath abiding faith; 

And whatsoe'er of me another saith. 
Although the words may seem to come from Heaven, 

She ponders well, and tries it by the test 

Of that which in her heart she findeth best." 
136 



